


Necessary Precautions

by cuttingthepainter



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Exophilia, F/M, Fae Boyfriend, Female Reader, Monster - Freeform, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Lover, Monster Romance, exophile, fae monster, male monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttingthepainter/pseuds/cuttingthepainter
Summary: Clubs were never your thing, but you're glad your friend drug you out tonight.
Relationships: Fae/Reader, Original Character(s)/Reader, Original Male Character/Reader
Kudos: 61





	Necessary Precautions

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This has also been posted on my tumblr: cuttingthe-painter

Rhythmic thumping pulses through the walls of the club. You look around, taking in the chattering groups around you, watching as they huddle together to protect themselves from the frigid night air. You turn back to Harper who is craning her neck, attempting to look over the shoulders of the men in front of you. She faces you and mouths ‘ _everyone is so damn tall_ ’ before pushing up onto her tiptoes to watch the line move. 

Goosebumps prickling across your arms has you wrapping yourself in a hug and cursing Harper for convincing you that you wouldn’t need a coat. ‘ _We’ll only be in line for like, 5 minutes, and then we’ll be sweating and dancing in the club!’_ she had said. Well, 5 minutes has come and gone and now your wait in line is nearing an hour. 

You shuffle forward and look around again at all the others waiting to get in. Something is off about everyone; not only is every single person a head taller than you and Harper _at least_ , but they all have an odd sort of glow about them. Maybe you shouldn’t have pre-gamed at Harper’s before coming out for the night. Dark eyes catch yours while you look through the crowd behind you. The dark eyed man shoots you a smile that makes your stomach knot in discomfort. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return and face forward again, stepping closer to Harper.

“Maybe we should leave,” you whisper to Harper, talking right into her ear. Her head snaps to the side, causing you to have to lean away to avoid getting hit. 

“We’re _almost_ inside,” she whines, motioning for you to look towards the bouncer. She’s right, only six people stand between you and the bouncer. You nod at her and flash an apologetic smile. You ready your ID to hand to the bouncer only for him to look at you both and wave you off.

“ _What?”_ Harper hissed, tilting her head in confusion. Ignoring his bored stare she shoves her ID at him and waves it around until he takes it. He looks it over before handing it back and waving her off again. Harper, not someone who is typically turned away from clubs, huffs and crosses her arms. “Come _on_. Just let us in?”

You look up to the sky, preparing for the upcoming argument. When you look back down, you meet the pale blue gaze of a man standing behind the bouncer, just near the door. His face is all angles, pale and _beautiful_. Messy white hair falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head and flashes a perfect smile at you. You catch yourself staring longer than appropriate and give a shy smile before looking back at your friend. 

“We need to get inside, dude. We have friends waiting for us,” Harper says, the lie falling easily off her tongue. The bouncer laughs at her, a full belly laugh that has his tilting his head back.

“I highly doubt that,” he responds, “you two just don’t seem the type to run in this circle.” Harper scoffs, looking around at the people behind her. She meets the stare of the dark eyed man behind you and looks him up and down. A sinister smirk creeps across his face and he steps forward to her.

“I can get ya in, sweetheart,” he purrs, snaking an arm around her waist. “What's your name?” Harper opens her mouth to answer when a low voice interrupts, pulling your attention back near the bouncer.

“They’re with me, Ode,” the white haired man says, ushering you and Harper towards the club door. Harper sticks her tongue out at Ode as you both pass him, making him roll his eyes. Walking into the club reminds you just how much you hate them; the flashing lights and pounding music are so much more intimidating than the dive bars you were used to. Plus, having to push past all the sweaty, dancing bodies just to get to the bar feels disgusting.

The music, lights, and bodies overwhelm all your senses; you attempt to focus on your breathing as you walk, trying to ignore the anxiety clenching at your throat and making your hands sweat. 

“I would suggest you warn your friend to not give her name to every person she meets.” You jump at the feel of lips ghosting across your ear. You turn and meet those electric eyes, catching them dart down to your mouth.

“Why’s that?” you ask, making sure to talk loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Well, did you _see_ that guy she was about to give her name to?” he responded, feigning a shudder. You laugh lightly, and look around for Harper. She’s beat you to the bar, mouthing to you that she’s ordered drinks. You give a thumbs up and turn back to the white haired man.

“Thanks for getting us in. Harper has been dying to come here all week and see what all the hype is about,” He flashes that perfect smile at you again and leans in close again.

“And what about you? Were you not _dying_ to come here?” he teases, placing his hand on your lower back and continuing your walk towards the bar.

“Clubs aren’t my thing,” you reply, noticing Harper motioning for you to hurry up. She pushes a drink into your hands when you get to her.

“I’m gonna go dance!” she yells. Noticing the man still with you, she adds on “Thanks for getting us in!” She disappears into the crowd, leaving you behind with just your drink and the man you just met. You watch as he signals to the bartender and admire his sharp features. A flush heats your face when he catches you staring a moment later.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment at being caught. 

“I didn’t throw it,” he responds, a flirty smile dancing on his face. The bartender walks over and takes his order and begins mixing together a drink you’ve never heard of.

“Well, what’s your name then?” you ask, noticing how he deflected your first attempt. He turns to fully face you and leans one arm on the bar, leaving barely any space between you two. 

“Hmm,” he muses, thinking over an answer. His eyes trace the lines of your face for a long moment before he finishes. “I suppose you can call me Quill.”

The bartender returns with his drink and Quill grabs it, raising it to his lips and taking a drink without looking away from you. You mirror his movements, sipping from your own drink, and think over his answer. _You can call me Quill_. What an odd way to phrase that. Actually, he’s been weird about names each time they’ve come up. _Tell your friend to not give her name to every person she meets._ You squint at him, noticing how he also seemed to have a weird glow around him. Before you can think about it too much, someone knocks into your back, pushing you into Quill. Somehow, you manage to not spill your drink on him. 

“I’m so sorry,” you breath, attempting to steady your footing and pull away from him. His arm had wrapped around you, though, and held you in place against him.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growls to the person who knocked into you. The words rumble through his chest and the feeling sends heat through your body. He pulls back and whispers down to you, “Are you okay?”

You nod, words caught in your throat, and stare into his mesmerizing eyes. They freeze you in place, entrancing you for what feels like eternity. You swear there was an ocean trapped behind his pupils and you were drowning in it. Its tide sweeps you away, pulling you from the noisy club and the crowd of people until it's just you and Quill. You're hyper away of the way his warm breath fans across your face, the way he leans into you until his lips are centimeters from you. He’s going to kiss you and, at this moment, there's nothing you want more. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” he whispers, his eyes twinkling with delight. The noise of the club rushes back all at once, causing your head to spin slightly. You blink in surprise and let out a shaky breath.

“Uh, sure,” you breathe, careful to not let disappointment edge your tone. He finishes off his drink and you follow suit. When your glass clinks onto the bartop, Quill grabs your hand and pulls you into the crowd. The energy on the dance floor is electric; everyone seems to move together, as if slaves to the music. 

Quill pulls your body against his on the dancefloor; he’s tall and lean and with your back flush against his front, you can feel all his hard muscles. You wind your arms around his neck and angle your head just in time to watch a wide smile spread across his face. His eyes darken as you move your hips against his. You keep your eyes on his face as you dance, watching the way his eyes flutter closed when you press back into him. 

When the song ends, Quill spins you to face him, resting his arms around your waist. His eyes trail down your face, landing on your lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lips, and then he’s leaning down. Your breath quickens and your eyes close in anticipation. And then he’s kissing you. Kissing you in a way you wouldn’t expect to be kissed in the middle of a dance floor. He kisses you slowly, gently. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling slightly. He groans softly, low in his throat, and then pulls you impossibly tighter against him. Suddenly he’s kissing you harder, deeper. You pull away, breathless, and rest your forehead against his. 

When you pull away and look up at him, you notice a sheen of sweat across his forehead and its _silver._ You furrow your brow in confusion and then meet his curious eyes. Then it clicks. Everyone in line was significantly taller than you both. Harper and you were the only two turned away. Quill seemed so weird about names. _Silver sweat_. This wasn’t a club for humans; these were all fae dancing around you. Quill watched the realization cross your face, and he offered a small, apologetic smile that made your stomach flutter.

“I should have told you,” he said. You shook your head, understanding why he hadn’t.

“I should have figured it out sooner,” you replied. “I need to tell Harper, though. I don’t need her bumping into the wrong fae.”

“Hurry back,” Quill groaned, begrudgingly letting his arms fall away from your sides. You found Harper back by the bar talking closely with a man. He was right up her alley, you noted. Harper went weak in the knees for the tall, dark, and handsome type. 

“Harper,” you say, tapping her arm in case she didn’t hear you over the music. She pulls away from the man and looks at you, slightly annoyed. “Can we talk real quick?” 

“Sure. One minute, Oz,” she says, purring slightly at the man. She steps away with me, flashing me a glare to let me know she isn’t happy being interrupted.

“Did you _know_ this was a fae club?” you whisper to her. She smiled at me, laughing slightly before answering.

“Not when I brought us here, but Oz told me! Isn’t that _wild?_ I almost gave that creep in line my name!” she laughs, completely unphased by the possibility of the man in line having that power over her. “Is that a problem with you, though? You’ve never seemed to have an issue with fae before.”

“No, it’s not a problem, Harper. I just wish we had known ahead of time to maybe, I don’t know, take necessary precautions!” She laughs again, patting your arm.

“ _Necessary precautions_ ,” she snorts. “You’re so dramatic. I’m leaving with Oz tonight, just like I’m assuming you are with that man you were letting kiss your face off. Make sure to take the _necessary precautions.”_ Harper walks back to where Oz stood at the bar, signaling the end of your conversation. You roll your eyes and scan the crowd for Quill, who you find waiting for you at the opposite end of the bar from Harper.

You walk over to him, relishing in the way his face lights up with that perfect smile whenever you come near him. You lean into him, kissing the smile off his face. When you pull away, his pupils are blown wide as he looks down to you.

“Come home with me,” he whispers, leaning in and stealing another kiss. 

“Hmm,” you muse, mimicking his earlier actions. “I suppose I could, if you tell me your name.” He laughs, a loud and magical sound, bending down until your noses touch.

“Well played,” he breathes, lips nearly brushing against yours. “My name’s Quillin Virion.”


End file.
